X
by Moonbutton
Summary: The character of every act depends upon the circumstances in which it is done
1. Stumble And Fall

i) Heavily influenced by 'The Action Heroine's Handbook' and... er, alcohol.

ii) 'The character of every act depends upon the circumstances in which it is done' Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr

X

He couldn't stop the smile from forming. It had been a close call and he'd very nearly gotten caught. However, in the years since his escape, he'd learnt to walk the very fine line that existed between being caught and remaining free whilst taunting those who sought to capture him. In all honesty he was surprised to have seen them so soon. The clues he had sent hadn't been too explicit - he'd have guessed it would have taken another twenty-four to thirty-six hours for Broots to decode. Ample time for him to finish his pretend and even to stick around to soak up the end result if he so wished. That was always something he enjoyed, seeing other people's lives get back on track; probably because, in stark contrast, his own continued to veer down unchartered territory.

So he'd been prepared, as always. Calculating in that mysterious 'X' factor, the chance that she would turn up early, had been something he'd learnt early on in the chase. Always have a plan 'B' and always have more than one escape route. Miss Parker was, amongst many other things, a formidable woman and he knew it would be to his detriment to underestimate her.

When he'd seen the trio that made up his pursuit team approaching he hadn't hung around. Unfortunately they hadn't either. He kept the smile as he glanced over his shoulder, knowing it would add to her annoyance. Not too long ago Miss Parker had re-established 'the rules' of their little game and since then he had been steadfastedly obeying her orders: he ran and she chased.

At least he had managed to tie up the loose ends to his pretend before she'd arrived. The only thing he had left to do was escape. Again. Taking a sharp left he glanced backwards again. There was only her now. Sydney and Broots, though both mindful of keeping up with her, usually found it an impossible task. It always came down to her and him he mused idly, taking a quick right down an alleyway. Fate? Destiny? Two other words were probably more applicable: the Centre.

He could hear her following him into the alley, the familiar rythym of her high heeled footwear not too far behind him. She was persistent. Stubborn even. And infuriating. How she ever managed to keep up with him in that footwear though was a mystery - if only she'd swap those shoes for something more appropriate she might catch him one day. Then again, if she were to do so he'd just run a little faster because, as much as he loathed the Centre hunting him down like a dog, he did enjoy being chased by her. Mystery solved.

As much as he enjoyed it - the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush, the mere sight of her - it always had to end eventually. If she ever caught him... well, he didn't like to think about that. He risked another glance over his shoulder, one final look at her before he played his trump card and disappeared. He was not, however, anticipating her next move. This was beyond the 'X' factor.

She wasn't pointing her gun at him, as he expected. In fact he didn't see her weapon at all though to be fair he was distracted because what she did brandish was something ultimately more effective. She was flashing her cleavage.

For someone used to running whilst constantly looking over his shoulder he suddenly found it incredibly difficult to remain on his feet. Of course, normally he wouldn't have spent so long with his neck craned over his shoulder. He only managed a few metres before he lost his footing, his head still turned, and hit the hard ground still trying to spy her. Lying there on the cold floor he took a few moments in an attempt to contemplate the situation. He must have imagined it - surely? He was going crazy, that's what was happening; all those Centre experiments had finally caught up with him. But staring into the early morning sky all he could see was her. And a certain part of her anatomy.

Somewhere inside his head he recognised that he needed get straight back up and keep running yet he stayed where he was. He felt a little dazed but he was sure he hadn't hit his head; he knew this had more to do with shock. And then he thought of her again and the surprise hit him once more proving his theory. The urge to flee tried to convince him that he'd imagined the whole thing, that he'd only seen what he wanted to see and that he needed to go. Now. But even in his dreams she never looked that good.

He raised his head slowly, using both elbows to prop himself up, and found his huntress sauntering towards him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. And her blouse still half unbuttoned, offering him another, somewhat closer view, and indisputable proof. This was no illusion. He swallowed hard, his eyes lingering on the delicious mounds of flesh just barely visible. It occurred to him then that she might not be aware of what she'd done. She didn't seem to be making any move to reclaim her modesty and there was no reaction to his quite blatant staring. Had this all been an accident?

"Look what I caught," she beamed, coming to a stop at his outstretched feet.

He swallowed again at her throaty tone and forced himself to look at her face. She was still smiling triumphantly and he chided himself for allowing himself to be so distracted.

She slowly withdrew her gun, the action making her blouse scout out various other positions, each seemingly more revealing than its predecessor, before resettling in its original position. It was almost as if she was teasing him. Maybe she was. Jarod felt his mouth go dry and found it increasingly difficult to breathe. And to look her in the eye. Despite the situation he was currently occupying he felt incredibly turned on. He forced himself to think of something else, anything but her.

"Five years, Jarod," she said bending down to his eye level, which quite frankly didn't help his situation any, "And this is all it took."

He barely heard her words. Somewhere his brain registered the fact she was admitting her intent and that he had fallen - quite literally - into her trap but right then it seemed that, despite his best intentions, every drop of blood in his body was rushing towards his lower half. As she'd crouched down he'd gotten another eyeful and in an attempt to look away from the source of his distraction his gaze had encountered her legs. Long, shapely legs that were barely covered to begin with were now even more exposed as her skirt had ridden up as she'd descended. He tried to swallow again but now he was finding it incredibly difficult to do more than one thing at once and he was still having enough trouble breathing as it was.

It was only the movement of her gun, held firmly in one hand, that kept him from acting on his impulses as reality began to re-assert itself. She was still his huntress, he was still her prey. He tried hopelessly to focus on this fact and on possible ways out of his predicament. She raised the gun to his chest and smiled.

"Gotcha."


	2. Over The Breaks

Her single word, and accompanying grin, were enough to complete his journey towards sobriety. He glared at the dirty grey concrete to his side. As some of the blood returned to his brain a flash of anger set in as her intentions finally registered with him; but he couldn't be angry with her. It was his own fault. He'd revealed just how he felt about her on that island and now she was using it against him. All credit to her for exploiting his Achilles Heel, he'd done it often enough to other people. He just never thought she would use herself in that way.

He had, albeit sometimes rather clumsily, tried to make his feelings for her apparent over the years. Each profferred olive branch had held a risk on his part; all she had to do was feign repentance, or offer herself to him, and she'd have had him. It was a risk he would have been more than willing to take. But she had never once tried. He liked to think it had something to do with her feelings for him. That she had finally crossed that line could only mean one thing: she must be desperate. His anger dampened at that thought. She wouldn't be able to charm Raines as she had her father - and Mr Parker hadn't been the easiest person to persuade to begin with. The Centre was now a much colder and dangerous place to be - even for the Ice Queen herself. He shook his head slightly; she'd caught him and he was feeling bad for her. He drew his eyes back to her form. God, he found her beautiful - and didn't she know it.

"You cheated," he managed to say, rather sadly to his own dismay.

She continued to smile predatorily. "Get up Jarod," she ordered coolly. She was obviously enjoying herself immensely and it hurt. Not because he was going back to the Centre but because _she_ was going to take him back. It felt like betrayal even though she had always maintained she'd catch him. It felt like rejection.

He nodded once and she rose first keeping her gun on him as he reluctantly followed her lead. His head cleared a little more with the slight change in altitude. He did have an escape route not too far away - it was where he had been heading before he took his fall - and he supposed he should be attempting some way of getting there but he felt unable... or unwilling, he wasn't sure which. Despite the precarious position he found himself in he was, to a certain degree, enjoying this. Enjoying being so close to her. She seemed so happy he felt honoured seeing her that way. What harm would a few more minutes do? Plus, she was the one who was currently armed - in more ways than one.

"Against the wall," she said strongly, still beaming and waggling the gun to her left, indicating exactly where she wanted him. So in control and so alluring.

Sighing softly at his own 'weakness' he raised his arms in surrender and walked towards the wall. Maybe he should've ran. With his back now to her he listened intently for the familiar clack of handcuffs but he heard nothing other than his own steady breaths. What was she doing? He wanted to risk another glance over his shoulder but that was what had gotten him into this mess to begin with. Hell, at this point he was willing to concede that it was that first meeting as children that had gotten him into this mess.

"Turn around."

The tone of her voice had now changed, there was a lighter edge to her silky tones. But there was something else in there too, he thought, but he couldn't discern what exactly. It was that 'X' quality again. A possible explanation sloped into his thoughts but he dismissed it immediately; it was a step too far even for her. Wasn't it? But hadn't she revealed just as much as he on that island? He turned around with a heavy heart, unsure of what he'd find. She surprised him for the second time in the space of ten minutes - three times if he included her unexpected arrival. Though her smile had disappeared there was still a hint of mischief, of obvious joy - no doubt at having caught him - in her eyes. Her eyes. Beautiful eyes that twinkled at him, more than making up for the fact that she had rebuttoned her blouse whilst his back was turned.

Slowly closing the gap between them she pressed her gun into his chest, exactly over his heart, her eyes burning deeply into his. The cool metal pierced through the thin layer of his shirt and he felt a shiver run down the length of his spine. He didn't think his reaction had anything to do with the cold gun because, right then, he was feeling rather hot.

"I didn't cheat, Jarod," she purred.

The sultry tone of her voice sent another shiver down his back. If Sydney - or anyone from the Centre for that matter - were observing the situation from afar it would seem to them that he was caught; that he would very shortly become intimately reacquainted with The Centre. But that earlier thought forced its way into his head once more. There were no sweepers, no handcuffs, no... anything vaguely Centre related. And her current actions weren't exactly as he'd have expected. He stopped that thought from taking over completely. At this point, he could just about bluff out his 'fall' as an accident - anything else might be a bit trickier. He wasn't completely abandoning that thought just yet though, best to 'feel out' the situation a little further first. Without his hands, that is. He kept them raised and out of reach.

"Then what would you call it, Miss Parker," he countered, keeping his voice low and risked letting his eyes pass over her blouse. Even buttoned it left little to the imagination, not that he would ever have to rely so heavily upon his imagination any more. He grunted softly as she pressed her weapon harder into his chest.

Her smile was back, making his earlier decision to stick around for a little longer entirely justified. Whatever the outcome of the day he was going to have some very fond memories to look back on. "I prefer to think of it as exploiting your weakness, genius," she replied confidently through her smile.

"And what weakness would that be," he asked as casually as he could. The look that she shot him positively thrilled him and he found himself falling all over again. Just not literally this time. He held his breath expectantly hoping beyond belief that she wasn't toying with him.

"You're a man, Jarod. Despite all your abilities, you're still just," she paused, letting her eyes trawl the length of his body slowly before meeting his eyes again, "a man."

Her voice burned into his ears and seeped through to his soul. He worked furiously to keep his hands from reaching for her. She was taunting him, had to be. It was some kind of revenge for all the pranks he'd played on her and all the times he'd sent her the long way round rather than telling her something directly. Any minute now she was going to change back to the Ice Queen, having had her fun. Had to be. Didn't it?

Hell, he was always the optimist. And he wanted so badly to believe what he was seeing. "I guess this means you win," he said softly. He was rewarded with another beautiful smile that reached deep into her eyes. "But what are you going to do with your prize?"

She met his steady gaze keenly, not bothering to hide the smirk that was now covering her face, "Something I've wanted to do for a long time."


	3. X' Marks The Spot

i) This is the last part. Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a few words.

"Well she can't have just vanished into thin air! She's not Jarod."

Sydney could hear Raines loud and clear even though the wretched man was hundreds of miles away and currently shouting down the phone to Lyle. He watched Lyle with a calm scrutiny that years of working at the Centre had instilled in him. Outwardly the young man remained cool, very cool, but Sydney wondered exactly what was going on in Lyle's head.

"Maybe Jarod took her," Lyle replied evenly, "He's pissed her off often enough. Maybe this time she went too far and he just snapped. Jarod has a dark side - I should know."

He didn't have to glance to his side to know Broots was squirming anxiously - that was all he'd done since they'd 'lost' Miss Parker. Sydney's eyes remained on Lyle but he was unable to hear the next part of the conversation between the chairman and the chairman in waiting - the former must have calmed down a little. Or was struggling for breath after his outburst. Sydney smiled slightly at that thought.

Lyle turned to his right, so he was now looking directly at Sydney. "There's many a time I wanted to get rid of Miss Parker - why shouldn't he?"

The cold glint in Lyle's eyes suggested he was speaking in all honesty. But the grin that accompanied his statement made Sydney suddenly very wary, eroding some of his initial confidence. Had Miss Parker left of her own accord? His smile faded as Lyle turned his back to them once more.

"Jarod wouldn't have... hurt Miss Parker? Would he?"

"No," Sydney replied slowly and without turning to look at Broots whose eyes he could now feel resting expectantly on him. Instead he continued to watch as Lyle sauntered a little further down the alleyway that they were all currently occupying. "Jarod wouldn't hurt her," he said quietly. He was certain of that much, at least ninety nine percent certain; Jarod had the potential to surprise even him and after five years of running, hiding, and general loneliness maybe, if his freedom was threatened...? No, Jarod wouldn't. It had to be wishful thinking on Lyle's part. Broots cleared his throat nervously.

"What if Lyle has?"

Sydney finally turned his gaze to Broots; the same thought had just been lingering in his own head. Lyle was capable of just about anything, he was certain - but this? Just how desperate was he to win Raines' approval? "I'm not sure," he answered uneasily.

Broots frowned. "He appears out of nowhere and Miss Parker just vanishes," he whispered, shaking his head, "There's no such thing as coincidence when the Centre is involved Sydney."

He only nodded his agreement as, from the corner of his eye, he spotted Lyle do an 'about turn'. Broots made a very valid point but he could think of a possible explanation for Lyle's unexpected arrival.

"You two should get back to the Centre," Lyle said coolly as he stepped towards them, his call to Raines now over.

"Are you not joining us," Sydney asked, directly meeting the other man's gaze.

"No," Lyle replied, that cold stare resplendent once more.

Sydney smiled briefly, "Very well." He let his eyes drop slightly but he could still see Lyle, "Miss Parker's probably on her way back there with Jarod as we speak."

Lyle's face didn't falter one bit. He was one cool customer but he was also intrigued. "What makes you say that?"

"Well," Sydney shrugged innocently, "If she knew you were following her," he paused but Lyle didn't even acknowledge the accusation, "Perhaps she wanted to ensure there would be no... mishaps along the way. I understand the person who fails to return Jarod has no future at the Centre?" Lyle remained stony faced for a moment before flashing a smile.

"Maybe I will join you," Lyle said softly, hitting the speed dial on his phone with his one thumb, "You can tell me again just exactly what happened." Propping the phone against one ear he casually sauntered away again.

"You think he was just looking for Jarod too?" Broots whispered once Lyle was out of earshot.

Smiling thoughtfully, Sydney nodded again, "It would appear so." He hoped he was right because the alternative didn't bear thinking about. There was a moment of silence before Broots piped up again.

"Do you think she might have actually caught Jarod?"

Sydney smiled again. His right hand unconsciously tracked towards the inside pocket of his jacket but he stopped short of completing the move. "I don't know," he replied softly. Broots nodded sadly and again Sydney had to refrain from enlightening the younger man. Before Lyle and his sweepers had turned up, Broots and he had searched for Miss Parker - splitting up to do so. During this time Sydney had stumbled upon the only viable clue to this whole episode.

He had found Miss Parker's gun abandoned in an alleyway.

At first he had suspected the worst but a quick examination, before hiding the gun, had revealed it wasn't even loaded. Given the circumstances he was inclined to believe Miss Parker had decided to leave the Centre. There had been no obvious signs of such an intention but then Miss Parker, like Jarod, could always be unpredictable. That such an action had been taken during the chase rather than, say, disappearing during the night or some other such way left him wondering if she really was with Jarod and, if she was, just how she had managed to catch him.


End file.
